


The Thrilling Adventures of Kirkwall "Man"

by EmberLeo



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Background Relationships, Dragons, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderfluid Hawke, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Multi, Pansexual Hawke, Ridiculousness, Wicked Grace (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28190736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberLeo/pseuds/EmberLeo
Summary: -OR-"How to Win at Wicked Grace"-----Varric tells stories of his best friend, Garrett Hawke's dubious adventures in Kirkwall, over a game of Wicked Grace with Inquisitor Lavellan and friends.Cassandra has a few questions.-----For Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard, for the Fen'Harem holiday gift exchange.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	The Thrilling Adventures of Kirkwall "Man"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard/gifts).



> Content Warning:
> 
> I am, myself, genderfluid, and thus tend to take swapping gender or sex modes somewhat lightly. The use in this fic is intended entirely as storytelling shenanigans.
> 
> If you find humorous uses of magical gender and/or sex swapping upsetting (which is understandable, given how it's often treated in mainstream humor), this fic may not be for you.
> 
> -E-

Varric leaned forward, setting his cards face down on the table to eye the others, smirking. "Did I ever tell you about the time Hawke almost became the Queen of Ferelden?"

Lavellan laughed, the branches of her  _ vallaslin _ curling towards her mouth as she grinned. "You’re drunk, Varric."

He waved a hand at her. “Now, Twigs, I’ve never been drunk a day in my life on human brew.” 

“That makes no sense.” Cassandra scowled, gripping her cards so tight Varric had to will himself not to wince in sympathy. "Garrett Hawke is a man, and Anora is the Queen of Ferelden. Even if he did somehow marry her, that would not make him the queen."

Varric shook his head. "Marrying  _ Anora _ wouldn't make him the queen. But it wasn't Anora he almost married, Seeker."

The Iron Bull exchanged bemused glances with Dorian, as Solas raised an eyebrow at the storyteller. They all leaned in over their cards with clear interest.

Cassandra’s scowl deepened. "Explain yourself, Dwarf."

\-----

Garrett Hawke’s vest was entirely too tight around the chest, pushing her magically-induced breasts up to the point of threatening to spill out. She supposed it wasn’t really designed to accommodate the rather voluptuous curves she found herself sporting now. At least the attention was entertaining. Rivaini was teaching her how to walk with hips like an Antivan courtesan, and every eye in the Hanged Man was glued to the two like flies on yesterday’s dubious stew.

Hawke was just getting the hang of flipping her hair over her shoulder enticingly when a Ferelden Lord came striding through the door, straight to the man sitting next to her at the bar.

“It’s time you came home, nephew,” the man said with little preamble.

“Uncle Teagan, how nice of you to join me in this… this… drinking place,” the younger man slurred.

Rivaini snapped her fingers. “I knew he looked familiar,” she muttered to Hawke. “That’s Alistair. He was one of the Grey Wardens who saved Ferelden. Nice boy. Very earnest.”

“You slept with him, didn’t you,” Hawke smirked.

“Wouldn’t you?” She smirked back.

Hawke took a moment to size the man up. She tilted her head, picturing him a bit less drunk, a bit more ready to fight. A slow smile spread across her now-plump lips.

She leaned towards the man, listening in on his conversation - not that it was difficult at that volume.

He shook his head morosely, the action making him sway. “Can’t home. ‘S’not allowed. I’m ask… axe… ex...humed.”

“You’ve been pardoned, Alistair. You need to return to Ferelden immediately.” Teagan looked his nephew up and down, raising an eyebrow and muttering, “We’ve got to get you cleaned up. You can’t marry Anora looking like that.”

“Marry Anora!?” the Warden objected, eyes wide, suddenly a touch more sober, as his Uncle crossed the room in search of a rag and some water.

“Is this man bothering you, sweetie?” Hawke murmured to the Warden, seeing his alarm.

Alistair opened his mouth to respond, only for Teagan to return with a wet rag and declare, “You not only  _ can, _ you  _ must. _ Ferelden is depending on it! The Bannorn now insists on Calenhad’s line occupying the throne. We’re on the brink of civil war, Alistair. It’s your duty!”

“Nooooooo. No, I can’t marry Anora, because… because…” He glanced hastily at Hawke before wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Because I’m already betrothed! To my lovely… bride… here.”

Hawke laughed, wrapping a supportive arm around the drunk Warden’s waist to help steady him. “Oh sweetie, you know I love it when you call me your bride. But I’m sure your Uncle here would rather know my name is  _ Marian.” _

Teagan gave them a profoundly dubious look. “This joke is in very poor taste, Alistair.”

“It’s not a joke! Marian here is the love of my life, I swear it!”

“She’s not even a Lady, Alistair. You can’t marry this woman.”

“How dare you, Ser!” Hawke huffed, doing her best impression of her mother’s affronted glare. “I am Marian Hawke Amell of the Kirkwall Amells, and I’ll thank you not to forget it!”

“My apologies, Lady Amell,” Teagan replied automatically, frowning. He turned back to the Warden. “Well, I suppose one queen is as good as another, so long as it’s your butt on the throne. Come along then.”

“W-what?” The man’s eyes were like saucers as his uncle dragged him off the bar stool. “Where are we going?”

“We need to be back in Ferelden by the end of the week. If you’re going to bring a wife along, you’d better marry her immediately.”

“Oh, this’ll be good,” Rivaini laughed, as Hawke grinned and followed them to the Chantry.

\-----

Varric took a generous swig of his drink, waving a hand for Cabot to bring them another round.

“Naturally, when the low- and hightowners saw several of the infamous Hawke’s friends striding towards the chantry after a man yelling about a sudden wedding, well, it drew something of a crowd. By the time we reached the Chantry, half of Kirkwall must have been cramming into the chapel to demand Elthina join the two drunkards in holy matrimony.”

Cassandra looked positively scandalized as the others laughed.

Varric shook his head, organizing his cards absently. “She refused, of course, but our dear Choir Boy, Sebastian, seeing who all was asking, stepped up to aid his friends in their hour of need.” He grinned. “Now, as this is the story of how Hawke  _ almost _ became the Queen of Ferelden, you may have guessed that the wedding ceremony can’t have gone through uninterrupted. Well, you’d be right.”

\-----

“Skip to the end,” Hawke suggested, preempting Choir Boy’s long-winded wedding litany.

Sebastian blinked. “Have you the ring?”

Well, the Warden looked like he was about to panic, but Hawke just turned to her Pirate-in-Waiting and borrowed one of the many golden rings off her treasure-laden hands.

Just as the young hero dutifully slid the ring on Hawke’s delicate, maidenly finger, a cry went up from the back of the hall. “ASSASSINS!”

Chaos erupted as black-clad blood mages and their wannabe-Antivan Crow hirelings emerged, seemingly dropping out of nowhere to attack the Grand Cleric! Well, Hawke wasn’t about to allow that on her watch. Nor, of course, would Choir Boy. In the blink of an eye, Hawke was freezing the pants off those blood mages while Rivaini, the Warden, and Choir Boy all dove into the fray, slashing, stabbing, and shooting for all they were worth.

\-----

Varric tilted his chin fondly at the crossbow leaning against the pillar next to him.

“Of course, Bianca got a few good shots in with me, while we were at it. But poor Uncle Teagan caught a sleep spell for his troubles, so Alistair and Hawke made a run for it. Lucky for Hawke, Rivaini demanded her ring back before the curse wore off. There’s no way that thing would have fit on Garrett’s thick fingers. You can imagine the Warden’s surprise to find his bride was suddenly his groom!”

His audience laughed, Bull slamming the table appreciatively, narrowly avoiding spilling ale on his and Dorian’s cards.

Solas smiled, squeezing his  _ Vhenan’s _ hand before refilling the dwarf’s tankard, “Clearly I should visit Kirkwall sometime, if only to see some of these stories for myself in the fade. I’m sure such antics must have left quite an impression on the local spirits.”

Varric shrugged amiably, raising his tankard in thanks. “Maybe. An awful lot of shit goes down in Kirkwall though. Who even knows what spirits would notice in that town anymore.”

Cassandra’s brow was furrowed. “... but how did Hawke end up a woman in the first place, Varric?”

Varric grinned. “Oh, well, Daisy found out about a spell, you see.”

\-----

The Dalish First blinked her big green eyes at the taller mage. “It’s the perfect spell to restore the  _ Vhenadahl, _ Hawke! Will you please help me gather the ingredients? Only it’s really important to the whole Alienage, and it is sort of our fault the tree burnt down in the first place.”

Hawke smirked. “Well, when you put it that way… what do we need for this miraculous spell, then?”

“Oh, not much. I could get most of it myself, except for the big ones.”

\-----

Varric sat back. “So Hawke helped her gather all the ingredients, which involved killing six giant spiders, fighting a Varterral, and wrangling a randy bronto and a three-legged nuggalope for their blood.”

The Iron Bull snorted. “Wait, wait, you can’t just gloss over all the fighting, Varric. That’s the best part!”

“You know how Hawke is, Tiny, it’s all brute force and magic. Nothing you haven’t seen a thousand times.”

“They fought a Varterral,” the Qunari grumbled. “That should be exciting.”

“True, true,” Varric conceded.

\-----

The Varterral rumbled to life, its shattering stomps almost as loud as a full grown high dragon, but with stabbier feet. It was like an arcane mage’s best attempt at cross-breeding giant spiders with wyverns, and about as pleasant to fight.

“You tangle the feet, I’ll freeze the head, so Varric can shatter the exoskeleton with explosive arrows!” Fearless-leader Hawke shouted to Daisy as they tumbled and rolled their way under the monster, leaving it spinning about, searching for the fiercest target.

“I don’t think the vines will hold it for long, Hawke!” she yelled back, dutifully raising roots out of the ground to twine around its spindly legs.

“I just need one good shot,” the handsome dwarf called, emerging from the shadows as the broody elf warrior in front of him held the Varterral’s attention.

Fenris slammed his giant sword into the monster’s head, stunning it long enough for Hawke to freeze the whole upper body in one catastrophic spell. The dwarf’s shattering explosive bolt cracked its exoskeleton open, and the monster stumbled in place, collapsing.

“Shit… where’s Fenris?” Hawke called out, alarmed. The dwarf and other elf glanced about frantically as their overly-tall human leader began trying to lift giant legs, searching for his favorite mistake.

His arms were beginning to shake, tears pricking at his eyes, when a buzzing blue glow overtook the Varterral’s shell. Broody emerged, hale and hearty, and grumpier than ever, from the middle of the monster’s body.

\-----

“HA! Now that’s what I call a fight!” Bull slammed his tankard down appreciatively.

“Do stop banging,  _ Amatus. _ It’s uncouth,” Dorian objected with a smirk.

“Why did they have to fight the Varterral, Varric?” Lavellan gave him a suspicious look. “Why couldn’t the elves just go without the others and walk right past it?”

“This one was broken. It kept hunting Merrill’s old clan. We must have killed it half a dozen times over the years when it regenerated, and they entreated Hawke’s help again.”

“Another reason to visit Kirkwall, it seems,  _ Vhenan,”  _ Solas frowned. Lavellan nodded.

“What was the Varterral guarding that they needed?” Cassandra asked. “And what about the other two creatures. She needed their blood for a spell? That’s never a good sign.”

Varric scratched his chin. “Well, it didn’t use the blood to power the spell, I don’t think - not that Daisy ever shied away from using her own blood if she had to.”

The Seeker scowled at that.

“I don’t know what the token they found was meant to do. Magic isn’t my bag. But we did find it. The randy bronto was no problem. I know a guy who breeds them for the Carta down in Orzammar.” Varric laid three cards down, drawing groans from Dorian and Lavellan. “The Nuggalope, though, that was a challenge. Rare beasties at the best of times, tracking down a three-legged one cost me two major favors, fifteen good secrets, and Hawke’s second best tunic." He winked.  _ "Unwashed.” _

Dorian coughed as Cassandra’s eyes turned to saucers. The Altus began to quietly suspect that the Seeker harbored a crush on the infamous Champion of Kirkwall.

\-----

The spell took a whole day to cast, from dawn to dusk. Daisy drew arcane Dalish symbols in pink-with-green-specks chalk all over Hawke and Anders, who agreed to help only if Daisy and Hawke would help another poor bastard escape Meredith’s increasing madness. Most would have done anyway, except maybe Broody, of course, but that’s just how Hawke’s crowd rolls - pretending it’s all favors owed when they really just don’t know when to leave well enough alone.

_ “Owaah!”  _ Daisy chanted, as Hawke and Anders danced around with rattles on opposite sides of the burnt tree stump, repeating each phrase with dutiful care.

_ “Oh-aah!” _

_ “Ta’gu!” _

_ “Tah-goo!” _

_ “Sai’yam!” _

_ “Sigh-am!” _

Well, maybe Hawke said a line wrong, we may never know, but no sooner had a swarm of blue sparkles enveloped the stump, spreading out across the whole courtyard, than Hawke was enveloped in the strange lights.

One moment, Garrett Hawke stood six feet tall and burly, with a beard to make half of Orzammar jealous, next to a burnt out tree stump. The next moment, she was tilting curves to make Rivaini drool under the lushest Vhenadahl the Alienage ever had. Broody had never been so confused or turned on in his life. Granted, it took Garrett a few days to adjust to her new form, but she took to it surprisingly well. Of course, Rivaini helped as much as she possibly could - no doubt in some very  _ creative _ ways. Hell, even Aveline helped a bit, if only with how to wear plate armor when your nipples are suddenly ten times more sensitive than they were the day before.

\-----

“I asked Daisy what the hell happened when they dragged a dizzy, stumbling Hawke into my suite at the Hanged Man. Apparently the spell was designed to pull the area from some kind of alternate timeline, where the tree had never burned. I guess Daisy and Anders were the same in that time, but Hawke was born a woman. All things considered, it could have been a lot worse. At least Hawke seemed to find it entertaining.”

“Shit, I’d love to be a woman for a day. I’d spent it in bed!” Bull laughed.

“Not with me, you wouldn’t,” Dorian scowled.

“Aww, don’t worry,  _ Kadan, _ I’m not itching for anything permanent.”

Cassandra’s brow was once again furrowed. “Why was the alienage tree a burnt stump to begin with?”

“Ahhhh.” Varric nodded sagely. “Feynriel - you remember him. Good kid. Apostate, dreamer, elf-blooded? Well, it seems he brought a hatchling home to his mother, and sometimes it liked to get out and run around the Alienage courtyard.”

\-----

At first, the lizard was downright adorable. He followed Feynriel around like a Mabari puppy with big eyes and a strange, growly-meep sound, hoping for food. The kid named him  _ Isenam - _ “dragon in a past life”, the way you’d name your dog “wolfie”.

In retrospect, there were a few errors that might have been avoided if closer attention had been paid.

Isenam got bigger. Much bigger than anyone expected. He started climbing things, perching on tall bits like a gargoyle, which was frankly still less creepy than the remaining Tevinter statues around Lowtown. He started defending Feynriel like a guard dog, and it seemed like a good deal. Maybe the kid could get to the Sundermount and back without needing an escort if the lizard got some training.

Then one morning Daisy woke up to discover the Alienage courtyard had been converted into an ice rink overnight - in the middle of summer - and it occurred to her that maybe _“Isenam”_ should have been named _“Isenatha”_ , as she was clearly female, on account of being a dragon in  _ this _ life.

The kids loved it. It was their shouting that woke Daisy in the first place, as they played a rather slippery game of tag.

The  _ Hahrens _ had some concerns.

Not the ice, per se. The ice itself was fine. It was rather a relief to get some cool in the area after the previous week’s heat. But the cause of the ice, well… The alternatives were admittedly worse, but where there’s magic breath, wings usually follow, and  _ that _ would be  _ very bad. _

So they did the usual thing, and asked Hawke for help.

Hawke brought Blondie, because Blondie needed to spend more time above ground, and besides, somebody was likely to need healing if dragons were involved.

Three mages, one ice-breathing dragonling, and a poorly-timed lightning spell later, things got a little  _ complicated. _

\-----

“I wasn’t there, myself, so I have only Hawke’s word on it, but I’m sure he wouldn’t lie about something like that,” Varric assured them, nodding as Dorian discarded the Song of Temerity. “See, Hawke was casting little lightning zaps at the dragonling’s feet to herd her towards Daisy and the kid. Meanwhile, Blondie was helping a pair of elders who had been watching the antics and drinking.”

“Summer footwraps, drinking, and ice are not a good combination,” Lavellan frowned.

“That’s why they needed Blondie’s help,” Varric agreed. “Only, one of them tripped, spilling their moonshine all over the tree, and bumping into Blondie, who ended up sliding across the ice and ramming into Hawke. The next zap went wild, hitting the alcohol like it was aiming for it, and  _ fwoosh!  _ Up went the tree!”

Cassandra’s expression was profoundly skeptical. Solas suppressed a grin. Lavellan looked downright alarmed.

Bull and Dorian, on the other hand, shared a pointed look and busted up laughing.

Cassandra grunted in disapproval. “How did the boy acquire a dragonling for a pet in the first place, and why in the Maker’s name did his mother allow him to keep it?”

“Oh, that I was there for,” Varric nodded, taking a drink and studying his cards. “We were escorting the kid to a visit with Daisy’s Keeper for his  _ Somniari _ lessons, you see.”

She frowned and then sighed, waving a hand for him to continue.

\-----

The huge high dragon was flying terrifyingly low over the path out of Kirkwall along the Wounded Coast. She roared when she spotted us, and turned to head out along the coast towards the smuggler’s caves. Hawke recognized her purple markings immediately. You’ve never seen a full grown, bearded man so excited.

“We gotta go see what she’s doing!” he exclaimed, to the groans of his companions.

“Isn’t that the opposite direction from the Dalish camp, though?” Feynriel objected as politely as he could.

“Marethari will understand. Come on, there’s no time to lose!”

“Remind me why we’re following a purple high dragon, Hawke?” Broody rumbled in a voice far too low for an elf his size.

“Booty, I hope,” Rivani laughed. “Or maybe Hawke just has a hard on for the dragon.”

Hawke blushed. “I mean, her human form is okay, I guess, but she looks old enough to be my grandmother, so no.”

Rivani’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit, is this that dragon? The one you told us about from the pendant thingy?”

“The witch who saved us from the Darkspawn, yeah!” Hawke nodded, grinning.

Feynriel winced. “Marethari says Asha’Bellanar is not to be trifled with. Are you sure we should be following her?”

“Didn’t you hear her summons? She roared for us to follow when she saw us. It would be disrespectful to ignore her, right? Hurry up!”

\-----

Varric smirked, drawing Dorian’s song from the discard pile and leaving a knight while everyone was suitably distracted. “We didn't have time to leave him somewhere safe before going to find out what she wanted, so he came along through the Sundermount caves.”

Dorian’s nose wrinkled. “Whatever possessed the locals to use such names? ‘Wounded Coast’, ‘Sunder-mount’. Does the area feel especially broken?”

Lavellan laughed, patting her best friend on his gloriously-tanned bare shoulder. “Clearly you’ve never been to the Marches. Trust me, the names make perfect sense in context. That whole ridgeline looks like the Creators just reached out and cracked the earth open. I’m amazed there aren’t exposed Dwarven ruins.

“Well, they’re not exposed, no, but they are unusually close to the surface,” Varric shrugged.

“Stop interrupting him!” Cassandra scowled. The others laughed. Varric winked at her, prompting a consternated flush as she glared at her cards accusingly, avoiding his eyes.

\-----

The nest was mostly rocks and broken shells, but one smaller egg sat intact in the middle, rocking back and forth pitifully, emanating a faint scratching noise.

“Huh.” Hawke leaned back on his heels, one hand stroking his beard contemplatively.

“We should help it!” Daisy exclaimed, immediately moving to the egg.

“We don’t know what sort of eggs these are, Kitten,” Rivaini pointed out sensibly. “That might be a very bad idea.”

“It’s just a baby, no matter what it is,” the elf replied, exasperated. She knocked on the little shell, and got back a muffled, watery meep. Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip. “Ooohh, we really must help the poor thing!”

Hawke shrugged and walked up to the egg, tapping in with the blade of his staff, once, twice… just a bit harder each time. The third tap gave a  _ crack, _ and the shell began to fracture.

Moments later, out stumbled the cutest little giant lizard you’ve ever seen. Too small to be a dragon, certainly, and there aren’t any Varghests in the area.

“Baby wyvern, maybe?” Broody mused.

Daisy frowned. “I don’t think Marethari will want a baby wyvern. What do we do now? It looks like whatever parents have long gone.”

The kid raised his hand, hesitantly. “Could… could I have it? Mom said I could have a pet, if it would be useful.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow. “What use do you suppose you’ll get out of a lizard?” 

“It’s about the size of a puppy, yeah? Maybe I can train it to fetch things.”

The adults looked at each other and shrugged. “Sure, why not kid.”

A tall figure appeared in the doorway, dressed in studded burgundy leather, her snow-white hair bound up into dragon-like horns. “Are you quite finished? I didn’t summon you here to adopt pets, you know.”

\-----

“What did Asha'bellanar want in the caves, Varric?”

The storyteller grinned as his increasingly-favorite Seeker replied on cue. “She said she needed a specific Elvhen artifact from a stash some Tevinter magister type - sorry Dorian - had created back when Kirkwall was part of Tevinter, or something.”

The Altus snorted, refusing to dignify the stereotypical mistake with even a glance up from his cards.

_ \----- _

The cavern was unnaturally round, though the walls were far from smooth. Sigils were strewn across the floor, some in smeared chalk, but others clearly etched directly into the stone. Three of them glowed as the old woman gestured.

“Each of these seals requires a mage to activate and hold. There are three of you.”

Hawke approached them, an eyebrow raised. One glowed faintly golden, the others more clearly blue and an orangey-red, respectively. “Elemental, yeah?”

“Naturally.”

“Welp, I get lightning!” He grinned.

“I’m… getting pretty good with fire,” the kid volunteered.

“Oooh, elements were never my strength, but I suppose I could manage a bit of ice,” Daisy sighed with a worried frown.

Asha’bellanar gave them a calm smile. “I’m certain you’ll do just fine, dear, now do come along. You-” She pointed at Broody. “I could use your assistance, if you will. You others, stay here until we return. If you move off of the seals, we’ll likely be trapped inside.”

Hawke pouted. “So… you want us to just… stand here?”

The old woman gave him an expectant look, as though he was very young, and very stupid - which, to be fair, she probably thought. “Yes.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Oh, not more than two hours, I’m sure.” Her gaze was unapologetic. Broody’s shoulders shook with silent chuckles.

Hawke nodded slowly. “... Is it okay if I sit?”

_ \----- _

Varric gestured to Bull that it was his turn. “We tried to play Wicked Grace, but I got tired of the cards they flicked across the cave landing in spider guts. When they came back out, Broody had an extremely bemused smirk on his face, and absolutely refused to tell us anything about it. One of these days I’ll find a favor big enough to drag it out of _his glowiness.”_

Cassandra sighed, exasperated, as she reorganized her cards yet again before looking up to Varric. “What did Asha’bellanar need the artifact for?”

“She said it was a wedding gift.” Varric shrugged. “I guess that's why she swooped in and carried Alistair off after Hawke turned back into a man.”

He laid out three songs and two serpents, no two with the same accents; a winning hand. Then he tossed out the Angel of Death. Everyone but Solas groaned, throwing their cards down.

The egg-headed dreamer just smiled enigmatically and laid his own hand down: Four angels and a song.

“Dammit, Solas!” Varric laughed, pushing the pile of coins between them over. “I knew I should have asked Twigs to leave you out.”

"My apologies for disappointing you, Master Tethras,” Solas murmured. “Perhaps I should sit out the next round.”

“Nah. How will we win our money back?” Bull objected cheerfully.

“A fair point.”

_ \----- _

Rivaini tilted her head at Hawke as they watched the dragon soar away, the now-very-sober prince of Ferelden in her clutches shouting objections, expletives, and cheese-themed epithets as they flew. "I've been meaning to ask you, Garrett: why 'Marian'?"

Hawke shrugged. "Mother always said it's what my name would have been if I were a girl.


End file.
